Lifted
by TranceKing123
Summary: Amy Rose is controlling the dreams of the drug-obsessed underground hedgehog DJ Sander Irvings. To Sander, it's simply one crazy ride. But there's a reason for everything. Amy's drive for Sander's dreams peaks his interest, but he just wants to know why.
1. Sander's Beginnings

**Lifted –TranceKing123**

7/21/11: Updated.

AN: My first romance fanfic, as well as my first step away from humor. I'm doing this fic because my colab with my roommate was completely avoided. I'm still recovering from that hacker. I've gone from zero to hero back to zero. And I'm a little bit stuck at zero.

**Disclaimer: **All characters, places, and event associated with the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise belongs to SEGA. Other OC's, places, and events belong to me or their respective owner.

This fic is M. You've been warned.

BTW: An original idea from Glitch Effects is in here. Highland Records LLC. This story has no affiliation with my colab, Glitch Effects.

+=+=+=+=+=+={-[]-}=+=+=+=+=+=+

**Chapter 1 – Sander's Beginning**

And there he sat. Eyes glued to his computer screen with the 78% contently staring right back at him. An accomplishment was just... accomplished, almost. And Sander knew it.

The 78% soon made a transition to 79%, but the numbers were still locked in his cerebrum, glowing florescent colors for no apparent reason.

Sander had to take his dull light blue oval eyes off of the computer screen and shift them towards the daunting yet exciting paperwork and pencil smack on his mahogany desk. He picked up his wooden beat-up pencil, putting a small slice into his snow-white gloves attached to his grey metallic skin. He started to fill out the paperwork, his hand moving like 2 crappy furniture deliverers bringing their first couch. It was basic. _Name: Sander Michael Irvings. DJ Profile: I.M.S. DOB: 9/11/90_

Never had Sander been so content before. He was almost signed up for Highland Records LLC, and his first masterpiece of psychedelic 145 BPM spacey distorted bundle of get-up-and-dance was now... 84% done. When those dreadful, slow as hell numbers drooped along to the 100%, he'd take his first step into a new legend.

And then it hit him. Like in a boxing match, he just took a huge blow to the face, was knocked over, and his tooth was now in his nose. He pondered into the dark thoughts and desires of his no vacancy mind. He had nobody to share this moment with.

Before dropping out of college, he was really the only student without one of the opposite gender. Most of his fellow friends, enemies, and peers had someone to share their fame, love, joy, effervescence, so on and so forth, with. Sander had... nobody.

But he had to celebrate with someone. Somehow. But who? His father committed suicide, and his mother was beaten, shot, and killed by his father. His grandparents were dead. His other members... he had none. He was the final Irvings member, locked within the black dark hole of the 2 spinning gateways into fantasy, ecstasy, and most of all, trance.

Had... no friends. He had... no family. But, if any hope were to fill his glass, it would be... a girl. One he desperately needed, thrived for, and really just wanted.

Soon he would have fans, but nobody's fan is the main host's favorite. The world isn't that simple. To find a girl, he'd need to...

...

He couldn't answer that query. Obviously, the future of hard clubbing, partying, and trying to give people something to live for would decide if Sander would get that girl.

He dragged the line along, and soon the dreaded paperwork had a stamp put on it. The pencil had cut Sander's gloves, and a shine of red was visible with the splinters of reality inside it.

Sander looked back at the computer screen. The monitor looked back with full focus, full mirage, as a 98% intently took time and smashed it somewhere around 30 and 40%. Time had never been slower. Excitement had never been higher. By now, everything was brighter, more exciting, more live, more real, more spot on, more unrealistic, more... trancy. This must've been the feeling of trance music.

Or maybe it was just the effects of the bottle of ecstasy pills, a Trinidad straight to Miami. But maybe it wasn't. The drugs haven't taken too much effect. He still had enough sense in him to realize that he needed a girl.

And there it was again. The presence was there, flowing like a wave of a Sytrus synthesizer. The fact that Sander needed a girl was here to stay, and only taking breaks when birds were falling from the sky.

But birds were falling from the sky. And tons of dead fish were being washed up onto the beaches of the Atlantic. And then, Sander did forget about needing a girl.

But after a short while, it reentered, and he was nailed to the wall again.

Sander couldn't take it. He refilled his glass with water and took another pill. He praised to the wonders of the equalizer of life and took in the harmful combo of jacking up life.

After the pill, Sander felt less tired, less depressed, and more excited for his song. He ran back to his small one screen one MIDI keyboard and cheap earphone studio sitting right next to his bed on one side, next to the TV on the other. And then there was the small kitchen and the pure white paint job to everything that finished up his shitty rented apartment.

The screen finally said 100%, and as quick as hell, he got onto the internet, e-mailed Highland Records his track with the apartment complex's internet service, and popped another pill. After that pill, he mailed his letter to the record company. But, he couldn't remember the address.

His brain was doing donuts around and around and around. A carousal of pure madness, drugs, lust, and, you name it.

He grunted. He just couldn't... he knew it was in Ibiza. He'd just have to call tomorrow.

His head became a north pole, and his desk became a south pole. As they stuck together, his top and bottom eyelids did the same thing.

And before you know it, his head and top eyelids converted.

When Sander got up, he walked over to his pill cabinet. He pushed over the bottle of ecstasy, then moved the marijuana over, than the Aleve, then the Tylenol, and finally reached the Cymbalta. He popped 2 in his mouth, with water, and swallowed.

He needed to take his mind and empty the trash within it. He could do that by... shopping? Did he need something?

Yes, he needed something. He needed to buy turntables! He'd go to the local DJ store at Station Square. He could use his Highland Records LLC card and fund it. But he needed to get that form mailed. His computer was left on, so it was possible to find the address online.

After he put the form in the mail, Sander debated on whether he should do something good for himself and so eat breakfast. He decided that the 2 anti-depressant pills he took would be okay.

And so, Sander revealed his new self into the open world. His new persona, his new fame.

But first, he would have to walk to the dance music store. It was called Remix, and it was on the far North side of Station Square. It was a Saturday, and Sander would have to pass his old college to get to the square.

His first checkpoint was achieved, but all checkpoints mean the levels, gonna get harder about right...

"Hey, what do you know! If it isn't the lonesome Irvings member. Too bad your dad had to ruin it all, right?" Laughter erupted, and Sander turned towards the college to find his rival.

"Well well well," Sander responded. "It's twiddle dee and his posse of hookers."

"We came up with a new name for you, and the name is 'piece of shit!'"

"You can't hurt me, James. I'm invincible on drugs."

More laughter arose. "Oh, you're a drug addict now. Why don't I kick your ass, and then let the cops finish off the bones?" James van Dyk was now edging his way towards Sander, with a peanut gallery arising from the dark depths of hell.

"Well, why don't I kick your ass, and then nothing happens?"

Even more laughter arose. James now sprinted towards Sander. James ran with a fist, throwing his hand right in the middle of the table so even the dealer could see it. When James was a split second from hitting Sander, he moved hit knuckles up to his chin and slammed them inwards towards James' throat. James stopped immediately and fell down. Sander ran over and stomped his foot right into the front of his throat, another deadly shot. After that, Sander moved on.

Sander couldn't believe what he just did. He had finally won a fight against his rival who he's been fighting since kindergarten. Now the drugs had kicked in, and the blurs of black and white, sepia, negative, and color were all blending together creating one giant mass of vision and feeling,

He jogged a bit towards Remix. When he reached Station Square, he heard police sirens. He dove in an alley. He knew who called and what they called for.

When the sirens were inaudible, he walked out of the alley and this time ran towards Remix. When he reached it, his hands had no blood, and his circulation must've transferred to elsewhere. He couldn't feel his hands. Sander could move them though.

When Sander walked into the shop, a ding sounded. He looked around. This truly was a store for the ages. The store's paintjobs, carpets, record alignments, and even desks, truly warped together to send the costumer into a spinning emotional vortex of confusion, distortion, and diffusion. This place really gave you a fake awake.

Sander yawned. Nobody was at the desk, but a door behind the desk was open. Inside of the door was a middle aged dark brown hedgehog looking at a computer. Sander looked around the store. He saw all kinds of awesome material including computer attatchments, records, and what he made this trip for. Turntables.

Sander looked at the first model he saw. He paid no attention to the make, but just stared at the wonder of those two slots waiting to be filled with the latest progressive, tech, and goa beauty of science, technology, and nature we call trance.

He looked around for a nice model. He figured he'd be able to tell. He found a nice model he loved, and picked up two records and put them in. Both were marked 130 BPM, so he figured it would mix fine. As he started the wonders of the technologic world, the sounds waves came blasting from the attached stereo system, blasting through the store. It rumbled the jungle of dance with loud kicks and dry snare, and rattled the selves, sending them on an endless journey into space, time, and the present... even though they were just shelves.

The brown hedgehog came running out, blaring at full speed, with a young college looking hedgehog blaring behind the angry store owner.

"You can't demo these fucking turntables. I'll have your ass reported, and the cops will kill you," blurted the obviously angry man.

"Don't hurt him, dad," challenged the young girl.

"Stay the fuck out of this, Amy. You have no fucking reason for SHIT, you hear me? SHIT! SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!" bellowed the man. He then turned around and punched his daughter right in her face, sending her to the psychedelic carpet below her.

Sander ran full force towards this hellhound and slammed his fist into the man's mouth, knocking out most of his teeth, making him scream as loud as a bass explosion, only his half-assed voice had no bass.

Sander did the same move he did to James, stomping the man's throat, putting a second stamp on his road to Alcatraz.

"I'm sorry, girl," Sander muffled out. "Can't see someone beat their own daughter. That bitch the store manager?"

"No," barely whispered an emotionally and physically hurt hedgehog, lying in her own blood, disparity, and realization. "My dad somehow took the owner's job when he died."

Sander offered his hand to help up the poor girl, but she bit it hard.

"Ow! What the FUCK! I'm trying to help."

"But you just can't hurt my dad when he beats me. I still... love... him."

Sander paused for a moment. "How long has your dad been beating you?"

The girl now paused. "...For... as long as I remember." She started to cry.

"My dad killed my mom, but I just moved on. You should move on, too."

"But I can't. I'm stuck with my dad. He's forced me to do all kinds of SHIT! I'm gonna fucking SLIT THAT GUY OPEN, PIECE OF SHIT!" She bursted her pandemonium towards somewhere, and darted back out with speed towards her father. Sweat blared, flying off her at all directions as she ran with some weird knife, the point already gazing towards the heart of her damned father. She ran over and super lunged towards his father's empty heart.

Sander, not knowing what to do, could only watch the pay-per-view drama, suspense, and violence unfold before him.

Amy dived for his heart, but her dad kicked her away. She flew a bit backwards and hit the floor. Her angered dad came running towards her. He kicked the knife out of her clammy bloody enraged hand and pulled out his own knife: a giant ass sharp as hell steak knife, only twice the normal size, shining metallic silver like Sander's quills, and his quills reflected back, giving the knife yet more and more and more shine.

"No dad, please don't kill me please don't kill me PLEASE don't KILL ME DAD!"

"Little shit," muttered the man. "I won't kill you. I'll just hurt you until you scream."

"No, dad, no!" But the wheels were turning way before she tried to convert a psychopath. His knife slowly but steadily dug deep, deep, deep into the girl's trembling left shoulder, going through as if nothing, until he got more aggressive.

The girl wasn't screaming, but crying hard, wailing the Indian Ocean. He took his knife out of her, even slower. He had her locked, stabbed, and petrified. He now superstabbed the shoulder again, with more force, anger, and drive. His hand and knife combo looked exactly like Enguarde.

He started to vigorously move the knife around like he was stirring butter, and now the girl screamed a loud... it was muffled when the man stuck his knee into her mouth with an amazingly sped thrust. He was now ripping the inside of her shoulder out.

Sander couldn't take it. He ran towards the desk, searching for a gun, but his hopes were demolished, rushed, and inadequate. No gun was to be found.

The man now pulled his knife out and stared at the drenched in blood shoulder of the girls. "You know what that reminds me of?" he thought out loud. His hand reached towards the skirt of the young lady, and he torn it in half. Clean.

He raised his knife again, but not towards his shoulder. He was gonna strike gold, blood, and cum as the tip was aimed right towards that little cherry of hers.

"OH MY GOD! NO, DAD, NO! PLEEEEEEEEEASE!" cried the helpless weeping soul as she cried to the heavens for her cherry not to be dug out of her, everything inside being scooped out like a soup spoon. Deep, deep. He might even reach her ass and pull it all out of there.

And down it came. The knife rocketed towards her womenhood on a crash course to rip everything in it out.

The girl closed her eyes and gritted her teeth hard and heard a loud BANG ring throughout the store. Blood flew in frenzy, and she could feel a deep pain in her vagina, surging her veins-

Wait a minute. He had a knife, not a gun. When the blood cleared, there was her dad, lying on the floor in a sea of blood, dead.

Sander's hands were shaking like Plate Tectonics, and he dropped the girl's dad's ticket to hell. His mouth showed no emotion, but his eyes did. It was... weird. He'd never seen someone die before; nevertheless, him shooting a child abuser. But a feeling overcame him, landing in his head, nesting, and laying eggs. Was it horror? No. Suspense? No. Was it... wait, when did he feel this feeling before?

His thoughts transferred him back to the 100% that stood on his computer screen. That feeling was a feeling of...

Completion? Succeession? ...Joy?

But why? These feelings seemed like the outliners of the data set, and he needed to find the median. But, all he had was the fact that he's been having a great day!

The girl stood up, trembling, shaking, her plates moving like Sander's were already.

"You... killed... my... father!" She stated, as she turned around with fire in her eyes.

"Woah, woah, woah! If my dad was cutting me up like a fucking steak would you've have done something about it?"

"Well, but, uhhhhhhhhh..." she paused for a long time as they just stood there. Police sirens started to sound, and a voice overcame.

"Everyone in Remix, step out the front door. This is the Station Square Police Department, step out of the building. FRONT DOOR!"

"Oh shit, run out the back door!" I exclaimed in a whisper.

"No, no, no! A trick. They're not even at the front door. Just casually walk out," she replied. She ran out the front door, unlike her words told her to do.

"A running girl! Get her!" screamed the police. She had fooled herself, and now the slow minutes passed as the sirens were slowly inaudible. He walked out the back door, straight to his apartment.

As he took a step, he remembered the flaming girl's eyes. What did her father call her...?

Amy, the name was. He remembered the man calling her name before that tragic incident that unfolded before the amateur DJ. Trinidad to Miami? I don't think so. No popcorn? The only certainty. What a father/daughter combo that was just displayed for the peanut gallery that converted into a criminal.

It's a dream. Or it's the pills. A day like this happens when birds drop out of the sky and fish... wait, this is the second time this has entered Sander's twisted, abused, and fucked brain of his. This had to have been a nightmare from the pills, but if there's a second season of The Sing-Off, anything has to be possible.

Windchimes roared in his head when a familiar voice entered the ears of Sander. "Back for more, bitch?" Suddenly, Sander felt a knife slice through his back, sharp, steady, and persistent. "You thought you won, huh?"

A rock, Sander dropped hard to the ground. Pain shoot through his veins, surging them, surging the arteries, and eventually reaching Sander's heart, which got a mega boost uploaded from the server.

Laughter erupted when James ran off.

Vengeance.

This was the only thing racing inside of Sander right now. Besides pain. His heartbeat started halting; James must've hit a vein. He slowly tried to get up, but he couldn't. Moving was rocket science to him, so all he could do was hope for the best or black out.

He went through alternative #2.

*****:)(:*****

Sander regained himself in a hospital. Never before had Sander felt so confused. Take a moment to lie on the ground dying, yet take another in a hospital?

What a day. More sleep, less pills, he decided, although kiss that one goodbye.

The sanatorium he was in was approximately cheerless. It was a plain white little room in a plain white little hall. The life support he was on looked like a spider web made by some development delayed teenage art student. Unorganized, uncared for, and all for the profits.

Sander decided to acquire a stroll. He unhooked himself and stepped outside the room. No time for peeking at the artwork.

Immediately, almost as if on cue, doctors raced after him, yelling for him to get back in the room.

Sander wasn't gonna take this. He waited until they were just about to grab him before he jumped, put his foot on the wall in mid air, and pushed off. He immediately ran off towards the exit; he'd been in the local hospital before, when he was just a small baby, and when his mother died.

His mother.

The faint memories were inexistent, as if she was never there. But she was, and if that divorce just would've ensued, her mother would still be alive. But maybe that was the reason due to the insane homicide his father committed.

His father.

Also, faint memories. The suicide was all he could remember.

_Don't I say goodbye,_ Sander sarcastically reflected.

No time to waist, he had to get to that elevator, and fast.

No voices, no doctors, no signs of being beat. He had won this one.

When he reached the elevator was already open, so he hoped in.

"Hey, ma'am, you heading down to the lobby?" he interrogated the young hedgehog.

She took one glance at Sander. As soon as she did, she ran out the elevator, like she was petrified or something.

"Hey, ma'am, come back! What's the matter?"

She headed towards the stairs, and he could beat her down.

The doors closed. He hit the (*L) on the elevator. The numbers sequenced down into nothing, as if tranced.

2...

1...

L.

The doors opened. And 2 doctors stood right in front of him.

He figured this would happen. He walked right up to the doctors and bashed their

heads together into one. He then jumped over the doctors and ran for the door, pushed it open, and bolted towards Station Square, because he knew it was only a 10 minute run from the hospital to Station Square.

"Let's make this a little more interesting," came a female voice from out of the atmosphere.

A whistle was audible from Sander's left ear. He looked over and saw a dart has just been shot at him.

_Keep moving Sander. You got a while to go._

The second dart shot struck him right in the neck.

"!" vocalized the same female voice.

Sander fell and, again, was unconscious.

_The second fucking time this has happened. We're on a fucking streak, now aren't we?_

And it's always the last words that show the most emotion.

*****:)(:*****

It was a little more time until Sander woke up this time, expecting to be in a prison. But this was more than a prison.

Around Sander was some weird landscape that consisted of a flat floor that really wasn't. Around Sander was a tube of purple, black, and red swirls, spikes, and swishes consisting of many psychedelic feeling. And the weird atmosphere seemed as if it was moving. Was this...?

Sander saw a pink hedgehog sitting behind tons of buttons and screens and floating code and all other sorts of crap.

"Well, guess I have to tell you now."

"Tell me what? TELL ME!" demanded Sander.

"Sander, you've just been lifted."

+=+=+=+=+=+={-[]-}=+=+=+=+=+=+

Corny cliffhanger, I know. That breaks the laws. That chapter was the most graphic, violent chapter I've ever written in fanfiction history, but it's my first break from humor.

I guess I was writing to much humor.

**If you would like to collaborate with TranceKing123:**

Send me a personal message with a small reason why you would like to collab and an idea you have we could expand on. I tried to make this as simple as I could so the collab could get out as soon as possible. Also, you can choose whether the fic should be posted on your account or mine. I really don't care.


	2. The Music Store

**Lifted – TranceKing123**

7/21/11: I've put dates to show you how bad my hiatus was. I just decided to take a break. While looking at other fics, I was noticing a lot of 1 chapter fics with 50 comments and tons of favorites. The whole thing was a horribly written sex scene. Come on people, really? As for the E and T rated fanfics, the effort being put into them is really suffering. I'm not saying is a breeding ground for douche-baggery, there's a load of good authors out there. A select few are just breaking rules to get more popular. I'm sure it makes other authors feel weird, like how I felt. To see that 500 word fic beat this awesomely written adventure thriller that took me 8 days straight to read all 5 chapters, it kind of made me feel… outdated.

I'm just pointing this stuff out. This was a while back, but it still looks like this stuff is going on. All I'm saying is think twice, really.

Alright, I'll shut up. I got huge traffic on Ch. 1, so I'll see what I can do for Ch. 2.

5/14/11: Mmmmmm, here's a tip: Never work on 3 stories at a time. I made that mistake, and lost all my inspiration and received writers block for some crazy time amount. :/ So, to make up for it, I'm loading your asses with 1 new chapter for Lifted.

I have a side project too, but it's not rated M, or Sonic related. So, yeah.

2/12/11: Hope you enjoyed the horrible, HORRIBLE 1st chapter. Ready for more unreal disgusting stuff? TOO BAD! This chapter will be kind of a recovery. But don't worry, it'll get worse.

**Disclaimer: **All characters, places, and event associated with the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise belongs to SEGA. Other OC's, places, and events belong to me or their respective owner.

This fic is M. You've been warned.

+=+=+=+=+=+={-[]-}=+=+=+=+=+=+

**Chapter 2 – The Music Store (Remix)**

Lifted? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

When Sander woke, he expected to be in the hospital, right on the same mother fuckin' bed he was on before. What did it look like again? A plain white little room in a plain white little hall, the life support spider web, okay.

Instead, he was at his computer desk, staring his digital audio workstation right in the face.

Wait ,WHAT?

Sander bolted upright faster than a lottery winner who hit the 21,000,000 dollar jackpot. His eyes twitched more than a professional 10,000 dollar strobe light. What else?

If he wasn't in the hospital, was that a dream as well?

But, James stabbing him in the back. What happened with that?

He went over to a mirror and looked at his back.

Absolutely no sign of a back stabbing was present whatsoever.

And what about the fucking turntables!

His apartment was raided by who else than himself, seeking the product he was trying to find.

While realism noted, he was just making sure he was not "lifted," or whatever the fuck that dream character said.

Although he fucking felt like it...

He walked over to his cabinet not for pills, but for popcorn.

Popcorn for breakfast? Better than painkillers.

He took the bag (it was the mini-bag type) with him to the public kitchen lobby. A familiar looking elevator was a few apartments across. It was familiar because, well, how else do you get out of an apartment extravaganza?

He stepped in. Unlike the one in his dream, the wood staining was a little lighter.

Although the sub-conscious hospital did give off an eerie resemblance of the one he was in now...

He hit the lobby button. After a little time, he was at his destination.

He walked out and passed 2 big rooms he never knew about due to the fact he didn't really care.

The next room to the left was the public kitchen social hall or whatever. It's where all the complex's "breakfast entrepreneurs" came and ate. Alright...

Basically, it was a huge white space with a granite bar-looking thing, tons of mahogany tables, and 2 60" basic black TV's that blasted local channels for hours on end. Not much to explain.

The public microwave was past the buffet, past the silverware, past the coffee machine, and eventually, to the microwave. Nobody was even close to this place. In went the popcorn bag into the microwave, and buttons that were sized with zero thought were tapped until "2:45 GO" came up.

Cook away, bitch.

He walked over to the TV to see what was on the news. Basic random shit, he guessed.

It was some random worldwide newscast. Every senior was huddled around it like a teenage stakeout for the new Call of Duty game.

Matt Lauer was talking. Big fucking whoop.

^"Welcome back to the Today Show in a worldwide broadcast, I'm Matt Lauer. We got some breaking news from a surprisingly quiet island with the famous Station Square. That's right, the place with great food and the best bank. But an unexpected occurrence had permitted its arrival in this effervescent civilization. Right outside of Station Square is a little place called the Mystic Ruins. And between them is a flat small forest. This is where all the fun begins."^

A live broadcast from this place?

"Hey kid, you hear about Strobe?" some old guy asked Sander.

"I don't know. They might be on the news right now," Sander replied.

The scene switched to some random reporter next to an imploded house.

^"This rubbish pile was originally an illegal unpermitted club with the name of Strobe. Recently, the club died down when the soon to be hall of famer Armin Winston joined the gang. Somehow word got out, and it eventually hit the police. But while they were looking into it, something insane happened. We all know it as the Downtown Disaster, and it killed a lot of poor hedgehogs. But one of the survivors said that they had been to Strobe once, trying to get in, but they wouldn't let them. So he knew the faces. The cops thought he just wanted revenge, but the next day a porno photographer was killed when a chandelier fell on him. JoMamma Furnishings Ltd weaseled out of a case when the fact of an illegal club wiping out their downtown probably did it, everyone believed them.

"The next day, which is today, nobody was at Strobe, so they took the club down. After that, three members by the names of Charlie, Emerald, and Logixxx were taken into custody. 1 member was already dead and nowhere to be found, probably wiped out during the Downtown Disaster. But anyways, 3 other houses were found, but nobody was in them, except for Tails' house, who's girlfriend was rearranging their empty house. She reported her boyfriend ran away, so she owns the joint.

"3 homes, with possessions, have been repossessed. And 3, maybe 4 illegal clubbers are on the run, in which they couldn't have gone that far.

"Now let's look at a world poll which we posted earlier. Who are the bad guys: Strobe, or the Station Square Police Department? Your poll says that 78% percent of the world thinks the Station Square Police Department are the bad guys. But still, 28%? I think Armin might lose a lot of fame. If not his job!

"Now let's go over to Jenna Smith with the weather live from the beautiful Ibiza, now undergoing one of their famous sunrises. Jenna, you're on air."^

Everyone left the TV. Old timers don't give a fuck about Ibiza, now do they?

The microwave beeped. Sander walked back over and took the popcorn out of the microwave and went right back to his apartment. Woot.

_Wait, isn't Armin part of Highland LLC? They won't be able to hire me in all of this crap. _Doesn't shit work out the way you want it?

After eating an interesting breakfast, he went back downstairs to snatch a bottle of orange juice and headed over to Remix to actually buy some turntables.

While walking down, he tried to remember the girls name. The one with the psychotic dad.

Best guesses, her dad wasn't that bad, was he?

:/

He was pondering on that, and the fact that Mr. Faggothead Armin ruined EVERYTHING.

Bright side, new turntables were on their way. Practice makes perfect, right?

He finally reached Remix, and a pure white hedgehog was polishing the MIDI controllers. Male, he guessed. He also guessed this dude was the real girl's dad, who was pink in the dream.

"Hello, sir. Welcome to Remix. How may I help you today?"

"Uhhh, yes, I'm looking for turntables. I'm thinking a good computer music and real record combo, where if I bought a song off iTunes, I could mix it with a record I bought here yesterday?"

"Double interface turntables? The full package? Alright. Have you ever heard of the brand LiveSession?"

"No sir, I haven't."

"Awesome ASS brand. People like Solar Storm and K.C.I.D use all their products. Rumor has it they have a digital audio workstation upcoming, and it's gonna be the first DAW that lets you optionally create music live on the fly without creating dreadful loads of patterns, loops, or anything."

"Whoa, that's sick!"

"Yeah, can't wait. So, the turntables are over here."

The cream looking hedgehog took Sander over to some sick looking black turntables with red outlining. 60 visible MIDI knobs were on it. A CD was in a little table compartment.

"These things are bigger than, than, fuck."

"Super price too. These things are only $399 USD."

It was almost unbelievable. In fact, it was.

"I'll take these, no doubt!" Sander pulled out his debit card in a flash, and handed the card to the man.

"Oh, one more question. I'm looking for some random chick, I think she's looking for me. I think you might know something, because I think she may be, uhhh, do you have a daughter?"

"I actually do. I'm married to a nice, Red, female hedgehog."

White... Red...makes...

"So, your daughter is the color pink?"

"Yup, is that the girl?"

"Yeah, what's her name?"

"Her name is Amy."

The magnets associated. "THAT'S IT!"

There was a slight pause, then the manager replied, "Here, if she's looking for you, I'll pretend you're looking for something. She's the knowledgebase of everything in the store I don't know. I know every product and brand on the west wall. Then, yeah. Hey Amy!"

"Yeah?"

"Some dude needs to pick out some, uhhh, what was it again?"

Sander thought on his feet. "Headphones."

"Yeah, yeah, help this guy out!"

"C'mon dad, I've been working my ass all day!"

As the familiar character walked to see who she could service, she freaked out.

Sander attempted to play it all cool like he never saw this chick before.

"Uuuuuuuuuh, uuuuuuuuuuuh," the pink hedgehog stuttered, "Oh shit, is that somebody calling me on Skype? I better go and-"

"You don't even have a Skype, Amy. Not even a Twitter page. C'mon, help a customer out, will you?" her dad called out.

She sighed nervously. "Oooh-kay." She slowly stepped over to Sander, a nervous wreck. She didn't know he actually wanted turntables this bad.

"H-h-how may I h-h-he-e-elp y-you?" she stuttered.

Sander got ahead of himself and decided to play nice guy on this, this, uhhhhh... "You must be the worker's daughter aren't you? So, you know a thing or two about electronic music, right? You know, Highland LLC, LiveSession, Ibiza, Spain, all that good stuff?"

She shook her head yes. It moved like a glitchy video camera that shoots about a frame every second.

"Good, cause I got tons of stuff I need to learn. My name's Sander. Sander Irvings." He stuck out his hand for a handshake. "Nice to meet you. You're name?"

Sander wondered if this was the first time he was ever nice. If it was, how did he act before? And what impression...

Doesn't matter. Get to the bottom of this first.

She paused awkwardly, and then slowly shook his hand.

"Amy Rose," she muffled.

"Awesome. First things first, uhhh..." _Think Sander, you fucking hack. All you do is drugs 'n' shit all fucking day. Get creative for once. _"I just heard something."

"From where?"

"In that backroom. I wonder..."

He raced to the backroom, hoping she would follow, in which when they went in it, that would create an interrogation atmosphere.

When Sander reached the backroom, he looked for a light switch. He clicked it on and looked around.

In a maple painted room with about 8 mahogany tables were 5 computer monitors, all off. LiveWires connected the monitors to boxes. There were 8 gray boxes, all with red switches and blue knobs and yellow buttons and everything.

_But it wasn't an MIDI controller._

There was this helmet looking thing on a green plastic lawn chair. It was silver, and shaped like 2 giant headphones in the form of one of those really gay earmuffs. Next to it looked like a WiFi router. It had 3 antennas, and tons of LiveWires. The LiveWires were connected to all the boxes. The helmet had 3 LiveWires, one to the WiFi, one to a box, and one to a monitor. More LiveWires were scattered around the room, connected to all kinds of crap. Next to the WiFi box were these little flashing computer chips, all resembling anything you stick in a computer.

Back to the LiveWires. A giant speaker set with a ton of black and gray speakers were assembled all around the room, all with about 5 LiveWires going into them. Another output had earphones going out. Tons of earphones were present. No subwoofer, though, was present at all. Big gray and black touch screen devices had each about a million LiveWires in them. Sander followed them to the computer monitors, boxes, WiFi, speakers, helmet, and 3 more unidentified objects, so he followed them.

One led to a standard QWERTY keyboard with colored keys. Another one led to the hard drives of the computers.

The 3rd wire led to something very interesting.

The biggest piece of all was this HUGE rainbow colored box with loads of LiveWires, loads of compartments, and more. Big buttons, little buttons, touch sensors, speakers, switches, knobs, big knobs, live streams, and wheels were all on this humongous contraption.

Sander didn't even want to look at it. _Fuck this shit._

"Ok, you found the secret," came Amy's voice.

"What fuckin' secret? This looks like a fucking music studio on steroids?"

"I don't think musicians have helmets in their studios."

"Then WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU NOT WANT ME TO SEE?"

After yelling, Sander realized that the shop owner and all costumers may have heard them.

But nothing happened outside.

Amy murmered, "I soundproofed this room."

"Oh, alright. Whatever, can you just explain please?"

Sander didn't know he was in for a storytime. "Un Simple Historie," right?

"Okay, alright. Tell you what. Let's start off with a question. Your fourth grade teacher taught you the most interesting ways to start a story, right? One of the ways was to open up with a question. So, let's begin. Do you know Sonic the Hedgehog?"

"Who doesn't?" Sander replied.

"Well, we were happily married. I want to emphasize 'we were,' because he was turning into a super douchebag. As a parting gift, one of Sonic's friends, Tails,"

"Heard of him too," Sander interrupted.

"Yeah, he a cool guy. Tails is kind of a 'black room boy.'"^^

"Ouch."

"Not the best kind of person to be, but whatever."

"So, what the fuck does this have to do with anything?"

"Tails shipped me a giant box. He said the stuff in there was useless to him, but I might be able to fuck around with it. In it were some LiveWires, A controller box, helmet, computer software, and a book."

"Then, how the fuck did you multiply everything by 5 and get even more of this shit?"

"It's all rewired equipment from this store. The book said rewiring music shit would work best."

"For what? Stop fucking stretching this shit. I wanna fucking know everything."

"Alright, I'll open the computer software."

Amy turned on all five monitors, but only one hard drive. They all booted with the same logo, but four went to a screen saver as one came up with the login.

Sander was always good with looking at other type and knowing exactly what they typed. When you are high, every runs faster and better, according to Sander.

Sander got the username "admin:arose" and the password "COD08BONTDIN-7655AP-SSA96-PO1I5H," with impressively seemed like a reg key.

Sander tried decoding the password. SSA96 was "69ASS" backwards, and PO1I5H seemed to be a letter number mixture to look like "POLISH." But, it might have been a randomly generated code. Sure, "69ASS-POLISH" seemed suspicious, but nothing else clicked.

_COD08BONTDIN-7655AP-69ASS-POLISH. Remember that._

One Amy logged in, she opened a program called "XSESSIONBOOT." Lights flashed everywhere as the room came to a show of every color imaginable. Lights went everywhere, chained, and seemed to travel through the LiveWires. Sander noticed the main room light was off, and every couple seconds the LiveWires would surge a bright blue light as other mod controllers with dim light made a colorful was too see. After the small light show, a screen showed up.

It was a basic login screen. It had DTN as one box, and ID/PASS as another. Sander knew DTN stood for Data Transfer Network. In the DTN box, she put "admin7IN6."

Knowing exactly what somebody typed was a skill, and Sander knew that. He wondered if anybody else could do that.

Under the ID/PASS box, (While Sander wondered why it would just be one box) Amy put "sixtynineasspolish/SSA96PO1I5H."

Sander noted to himself that this was the second time he saw some form of "69 ass polish," but this time he didn't see it once, but twice. _Why would she type it twice?"_

Amy was obviously distracted, because she didn't even notice that Sander was memorizing all of this. He really hoped all of this meant something about that dream last night.

Something really weird came up. In a box was a quote. It was presented like this:

"**Your head's in the sky, but I'm underground."**

-Richard Bedford

At least for Sander, there was zero reason for that quote to be right there.

Another box popped up. It was a small box. On the outside it said "DOC," and on the inside was some sort of file directory that was so big, that the hard drive origin was nowhere to be found up there. But, there was a really interesting kicker to all of this. She typed in ").(," which completely through Sander off. How was THAT a code.

And what about everything else? The 7IN6? The DTN?

And finally, the moment of truth occurred. Sander watch all five computer monitors fill up with all kinds of windows. But Sander got distracted right in the middle of all the madness.

Why?

He figured the password out.

+=+=+=+=+=+={-[]-}=+=+=+=+=+=+

Yup. Two cliffhangers. That's how I roll.

Anyways, since I might put this story on pause, I put up a medium sized chapter made that password for a reason.

Try guessing which musical piece the quote from Richard Bedford is. If you get that, I'll shout you out. But the hard part? Richard Bedford helped with the song, but is not part of the band.

Okay, last notes:

**If you would like to collaborate with TranceKing123:**

Send me a personal message with a small reason why you would like to collab and an idea you have we could expand on. I tried to make this as simple as I could so the collab could get out as soon as possible. Also, you can choose whether the fic should be posted on your account or mine. I really don't care.

^: That "news broadcast" actually taken from another fanfiction I made. It died out really quick. But it was like 2 years old.

^^: The term "Black Room Boy" refers to people who rely on online social networking websites for human communication, since they aren't comfortable talking to people face to face or did something so bad to the point where all their real friends have been lost. The black room is the server "middlemen" with PM's, e-mails, etc. A message online doesn't go straight to the other recipient. It goes into the "black room" in which it gets the IP for the other person, and sends it there.


	3. Dirty Little Fuckin' Secret

**Lifted – TranceKing123**

A/N: I'm sorry. I didn't hear you though the ear-piercing supersaw lead coming from my headphones. What did you say?

Yeah… I need a life. ;D

Oh, if you haven't checked out my other fic "Take a Moment," check it out. Traffic was crazy for only having one chapter posted at the time. It's an attempt at longer chapters and more alternation between barely explicit and extremely explicit. But still, it's a club world Sonic fiction, all though the real "club" part isn't there yet.

**Disclaimer: **All characters, places, and event associated with the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise belongs to SEGA. Other OC's, places, and events belong to me or their respective owner.

This fic is M. You've been warned.

+=+=+=+=+=+={-[]-}=+=+=+=+=+=+

**Chapter 3 – Dirty Little Fuckin' Secret**

Okay. Is this stupid shit figured yet? Sander didn't even know he was shrewd. That brain of his… well, shit! He must be a fucking mastermind! COD08BONTDIN-7655AP-SSA96-PO1I5H. How easy was that?

The 69 ass polish part was the easy shit. He had that locked up right away. But everything else? That acquired some time.

You see, the 55AP part was PA55 backwards, which looked like PASS, which stood for password.

There was a little trick this stupid little bitch had put in the password. It went from hardest to mother fucking easiest. The PASS69ASSPOLISH part was really easy. Her password was 69asspolish. But, why? _It was probably her fucking porn name,_ Sander thought.

Next came the IN-76 part. The Data Transfer Network code she put in was 7IN6. As it suggested, The "IN" part was in fact "in" something, and that was the 76 part. Duh, also easy.

Plus, the letters before it were "NTD," which was DTN backwards.

Put, the hardest part was the COD08BO. COD was "DOC" backwards, which was an abbreviation for document. That wasn't the hard part though.

The hard part was the "08BO" part, but the document name AND Sander's perverted mind all helped figure it out.

You see, the marks ").(" were in fact an inside-out version of the marks "(.)" which, well, let's get to part two.

Part two was the 08BO part. 08BO inside-out was "80OB," which looked like the word "boob."

If you know anything about ASCII, you'd get that the two correlate.

_What a fucking genius I mother fucking am. Heh heh…_

After Sander implanted all the information in his head, he looked back at the computer screens. On it were multiple windows, all with command prompt looking things on each window.

"There," Amy spitted out. "You fucking happy?"

"Okay, bitch. Before I fucking beat the shit out of you, I'll ask you questions, and you'll fucking answer them. Got it?"

"Sounds fair, you stupid fucking dickhole."

Sander noticed Amy cringe when she said that, as if she didn't want to call him a "dickhead," but wanted to in order to appear or seem a certain way.

_Pornstar fucking qualities. Okay, let's get all LA Noire on this bitch._

Sander's un-maturing mind still demonstrated why Sander was a typical hedgehog.

"OK, you slut. Why'd you make your father look like a fucking serial killer in my fucking dreams you were constructing in this stupid fucking room?"

"Well, you're a little touchy, aren't you?"

Sander had no time for her foolish games. So, he took his paw and slammed it against Amy's face in an aggressive slapping matter. Amy wasn't knocked over, but instead, tears of blood were coming from her eyes.

_That's odd… Why bleed there?_

Not to mention the giant hand print on her face, the blood tears were almost concerning Sander.

Almost. He had no feelings for this stupid bitch. She just wanted to try to mess with Sander mentally.

Amy went on like a fucking stud as if nothing happened. _Yeah, when you get rammed in the ass by giant dicks every night…_

"Well, dreams are dreams, right? I just wanted to get as creative as possible in it so that you never saw me. Might I wink at you, now?"

"Shut up, bitch. How'd you know I was interested in buying turntables?"

"Well," Amy slurred. She randomly broke out in a sweat and paused. Sander decided she did this in order to make sure that she didn't notice she was sweating.

But he did. He fucking did.

"Listen, on that second screen, which has an empty code box, everything that you think in words comes up as text over there. It's a useful tool in order to build the perfect alternate reality. When you act in that dream, it affects the code on the main screen, which has my virtual Station Square and central plot. More than often, stuff I hope isn't encoded comes up, and I immediately have to improvise something quick. For you, it was the college campus section. Therefore, I had enough time to write up another script with controllable characters. But, you had to fuck it all up. Then, in the middle of my code writing, you woke up. And there I was."

Sonic was able to pay attention to everything she said. Code is a universal language. You gotta love CSS, BBCode, and C++.

Sander was still missing two big questions, and immediately got a little aggressive to make sure that Amy didn't talk in paragraphs again.

"Okay, how did you connect to my mind."

"Oh, let's see her, um…"

"Start talking bitch, you'll be crying blood again if you don't."

"Okay, so, as you know, each computer and their wireless network is connected through IP Addresses. Through code, I-"

Sander slapped Amy again, this time even harder. It made a much louder sound. Also, his hands make their own sound as well, which was an also loud cracking.

Instead of blood tears, there was a blood water mixture that came flying out of her eyes this time.^ More, plentiful tears were evident this time. Yet again, Amy didn't flinch, make a sound, or even look sad. The handprint on the side of her face was even redder, and now much more evident.

"Yeah, network to computer. TELL ME FUCKING HOW, BITCH!"

"Okay, okay, geez. Gamma rays and radiation."

"Oh, good. You basically drugged me with unsafe amounts of fucking RADIATION-"

"Alright there, hulk. Calm the fuck down. When the gamma and radiation mix, the brain becomes aware on what's happing on the outside, but the eyes don't. It an explosion happened, you'd feel the G's, but it would still be black. So, using different color patterns, it messes with the gamma and radiation mixture and rewires your subconscious brain circuits."

Great. His brain was probably all rewired and shit. He probably lost all of his music talent. He probably…

Well, one down, one to go right?

"Okay bitch, I've been letting you slide, but now I'm putting this bitch on expert mode. Why are you controlling my fucking dreams?"

"Well," Amy chuckled. Sander noticed that she started blushing.

He quickly wiped that off with another giant slap to the face. But this time, Amy dodged. It made Sander fall face first onto the ground.

"Ooooh, the tables have turned… bitch."

Sander tried to get up, but something was pinning his back down. Sander looked up and saw that Amy had her foot on it. She was holding Sander down, and all he could do was talk shit.

He'd save his breath.

"I have a little fetish. I'm not gonna tell you what it is. But, you seemed like the perfect guy to test. After all, your thoughts were the easiest to read. Musicians never keep things in one place. They just have to get their ideas jotted down, don't they?"

Sander sighed. He knew nothing could make the grim situation any better.

A vibration came from Amy's pocket, and then Armin van Buuren's Take a Moment erupted sound waves from her cell phone.

_Well, this actually just got better, _Sander thought.

If breath was to be wasted, the moment was now. Hey, if YOU were pinned down by the opposite sex with a slight chance of rape being thrown around, and their phone started playing YOUR favorite song, wouldn't you get distracted?

"Woah, that's AvB's Take a Moment, wow!"

Amy answered her phone, foot still Mighty Putty'd to Sander's back.

"Hello?" she called out.

A weird sine wave was made through the speaker, and then some odd unnatural whitenoise sweep followed it.

Sander could tell it was through the cell phone on whoever's end because the quality blew dick.

"Ummm…" Amy paused. The noises from her cell phone ceased all noise. She looked at the main screen of her phone, only to find out that the other end hung up.

_What the fuck?_ Sander had to ponder for a quick moment. _The only place possible where noises like that would occur… Well, the whitenoise was interference. And the beeping sounded like a phone tracker. But that specific BandPass whitenoise only comes from a certain place. And that place is…_

The truth is a bitch. This was verified when Sander comprehended what the fuck provided such an inimitable soundscape.

_The mother fucking Station Square Police Department makes those sounds!_

Sander was freaking out. The fucking police were coming!

He immediately thought of what could cause Amy to get tracked by the equipment. Sander decided to grow a tree using the roots of her personality.

Amy had a lot of swagger. Her mix of audacity and innocence made her an easy read. But, her commitment to trying things she won't pull off was really interesting.

Hell, look at all this fucking equipment she had.

Okay. That was fucking easy? No red button for that one. Surely, this dream control shit got to the police. Maybe they picked up strange activity in the air. Surely, those fucking dream controlling codes flying through the black room could interest the police station.

Well, Sander decided to keep this realization to himself.

Sander thought of all the possible solutions he could do. But, they all started at two root steps. He either had to leave, or he either had to stay.

The police station was on the other side of Station Square. Plus, the streets were congested. So much traffic meant that the police would have to walk there.

Sander was starting to get really interested in this law-breaking individual. Amy was starting to seem more like an on the edge risk-it-all-and-still-have-something-left kind of girl. Her arrogance made for an interesting package in a pink body.

Amy finally picked up her foot, but realized her mistake and quickly grabbed Sander.

"Oooooh," Sander moaned. A weird rush went through his body. He tried to debunk it as something.

He guessed that Amy's hands were either cold or really sweaty. Either way, that pair of hands gave him the goosebumps.

Amy quickly let go.

"Awwww," Sander jokingly complained. "Now I'm a million times less cold."

"You're such a dick."

Sander was now in a really deep convo with Amy. He was getting somewhere now.

"So, your ringtone is Take a Moment. Interesting choice, Amy. Also considering how there's a wide selection of pop music floating around our world, that was a very interesting choice."

"Well, I'm a fan of trance music. When you enter a state of trance, there's zero escape. The feeling is such a rush, and it's so spiritual. There's nothing like it."

She had a point.

"So, you connect to your music? I just get high off it."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Well, not everyone is alike, are they?"

Before Sander spoke, a thought arose to his attention.

_Mothershit! What is the shopkeeper thinking?_

"Well, I'll leave you be, Amy. I have to order medication so I can get ridiculously high. You okay with that?"

"Oh, okay, sure."

"Just one thing, Amy. Stay the fuck out of my dreams. You wanna go get the shit fucked out of you? Check out a muscle man's dreams. Until then, peace the fuck out."

Sander opened the door without letting Amy speak. The shopkeeper called out to Sander.

"So, were you the guy she was looking for?"

"Yeah. She was tracking down old classmates from school," Sander lied.

"That's cool, man. I wasn't surprised when you walked into that room, by the way. I think she soundproofed it, so that was smart of you to do in order to not make a ruckus. We had one entire order happen while you were in there."

"What was bought?" The only reason Sander was lagging along an outgoing dialogue with the shop owner was because he wanted to pass the time. He was also hoping the cops would molest her. She fucking needed it.

"Well," the shopkeeper continued on, "It was just a professional set of headphones. Our last pair of "TrebScape" headphones."

"Wow, they suck."

"Yeah, not a fan either."

Sander got a sudden uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. It was like something really bad was about to happen.

The shopkeeper noticed. "What's with the sudden unease, man?"

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking of something that I saw earlier. He looked a lot like you."

"Hmmm, interesting. What was he doing?"

"Well, uhhh, he was getting owned."

"Oh." The shopkeeper started laughing.

Sander was in fact talking about the dream he had. Since he was being so vague about it, it prevented the shopkeeper from letting out the words "Go on."

Sander was about to speak when loud footsteps interrupted him. _Well, this was it. The moment of truth._

"What the hell?" came the voice of the perplexed shopkeeper.

"Ummm, there seems to be some kind of chase going on outside," Sander intelligently replied. "I wanna stay out of this. I'll get out of sight, and I suggest you do too." In a crazy fashion, Sander looked around and found a circular rack of artist t-shirts. He then jumped in the middle of the ring, held on to the pole, and slid down until he hit some sort of report. He never touched the shirts, plus the shirts were blocking him from outside view. Someone would have to look between shirts to find him.

Who does that anymore?

A small squad of police came in. Sander hoped that Amy's father hid somewhere successfully.

There were police officers, four in total. Three were some sort of back up officers, all colored the same exact palette, all the same species, all the same uniforms. Each was a white hedgehog with a basic navy blue police uniform with a gold badge on it.

What threw Sander off the boat was the fourth and final member, who was some odd looking creature with no visible fur or quills. It had really nerdy looking glasses on, and the top of its head…

Sander decided not to figure out what was on its head. But whatever the fuck it was, it was as ugly as shit.

They immediately went into the room Amy was in. Sander was surprised how they knew Amy's exact location, and not her relative location. The main leader of the squad kicked the door. It shattered the door, but it never opened. There was just a giant crack in it.

The officer started all caps raging.

"SHIT MOTHER FUCKER! STUPID ASS COCK SHIT…"

You get it.

Sander got really entertained at the live Reno 911 episode that was in front of him. One of the back-up policemen ran into the door and, using his shoulder, disintegrated the door. Finally, they were in.

"Give us the material… now!" The cops shouted. Sander was really hoping this was out of the shopkeeper's earshot. But, it probably wasn't.

Sander peeked back out after he heard a terrorizing scream unfold from the room. Out came one of the officers, flying out of the room with grace speed.

But Sander noticed something when he flew out.

+=+=+=+=+=+={-[]-}=+=+=+=+=+=+

A/N: Look, I know that I just whipped up a really short chapter. I had an awesome idea, but it died out. The chapters in Lifted aren't gonna be as long as the chapters in Take a Moment. Although this was really short, I needed something out or Lifted would've been sitting around for another 5 months.

**If you would like to collaborate with TranceKing123:**

Send me a personal message with a small reason why you would like to collab and an idea you have we could expand on. I tried to make this as simple as I could so the collab could get out as soon as possible. Also, you can choose whether the fic should be posted on your account or mine. I really don't care.

^: At least from what I know. Sometimes, a place with little blood flow will substitute it with water when it runs out. Correct me if I'm wrong. This is common with the face.


End file.
